


Forgotten Dreams

by oldhetaliafics (BisKitty)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisKitty/pseuds/oldhetaliafics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for Sweethearts week 2012</p><p>Arthur is wounded in battle, but finds a new fascination with the healer who is attending to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten Dreams

_“Have you seen this one’s eyebrows? He probably became a soldier because those things scared off all the girls!”_

 

_“Either that or he can use them as weapons!”_

 

_“Hush now, it isn’t polite to make fun of-“_

 

Arthur woke up in an unfamiliar tent. The high ceiling-cloths as well as the richly decorated fabrics were decidedly unmilitary. No, this was the tent of the Healers, an odd tribe with uncanny abilities in medicine and the healing arts. The tribe was said to be ancient, with it’s name lost in the sands of time, leaving only incomplete titles such as ‘Healers’ to describe them.

 

How many mornings had Arthur woken up to look at top of a plain beige tent that was almost too short for even a man of average height such as himself? Of course, with drills and other orders, he had never been given a particularly long amount of time to contemplate the plainness of the dreary tent. This new tent was busy, of course, Arthur was anything but the only person in there. He could hear the groans of injured soldiers as well as the instructions of the silk-clothed healers. Arthur wanted to retch from the stench of wounds mixed with medicines that were ill-cloaked by the incense. Of course, this busy scene begged the question: How did Arthur get there?

 

He closed his eyes, trying to think back to the battle that had occurred, perhaps not that day; Arthur had little idea of how long he had been unconscious. He remembered bits and pieces of the battle. The choked screams of fallen soldiers. The squish of dirt made muddy by the blood. The shrieks of armor being opened up like pistachio nuts. Arthur’s armor had failed too. He remembered that all too well.

 

There had been a young man with light brown hair that had a touch of fire, his brown eyes wide with fear. Arthur had been about to swing his blade down and add yet another body to the field but- he had not been paying attention to what had occurred behind him. Arthur did not expect something, perhaps a lance or sword, to pierce his side. After that, all he could recall was pain, and perhaps the feel of dirt on his face.

 

The pain in his side had been dulled, and Arthur was clearly not in his armor. Someone had already attended to him while he was unconscious. Arthur felt a burning curiosity sprout from the back of his mind. How did his wound look? What did he look like on the inside? Arthur tried to sit up in order to pull up his shirt and perhaps get a glimpse at his mysterious wound. Instead, firm hands gently pressed him back down on the cot.

 

“You’re finally awake! You really shouldn’t sit up, you’re not even close to healed!” a blue-eyed healer stared down at Arthur. The soldier couldn’t help but notice that the man’s eyes matched the blue silks that every healer wore. He swallowed, trying to make sure his voice had a fighting chance of making it out of his throat.

 

“How long have I been here?” Arthur’s voice was still ragged, sounding more like rocks pounding together than someone’s voice.

 

“Only about a day. Now then, do you know the year? What’s your name?” the young healer asked him.

 

Arthur cleared his throat in an attempt to sound more human, “I’m Sir Arthur Kirkland. It’s C.E. 237.” Arthur wanted to inquire as to the healer’s name, but did not want to appear rude. Then again, he also was curious as to how badly he was wounded and how long he would be staying there.

 

“Great!” the healer smiled at Arthur before leaving to check up on another patient. The soldier couldn’t help but to watch the other man move around the tent. With not much else to look at, the blue-eyed healer was certainly an attractive sight to stare at. The man had a tendency to bounce up and down ever so slightly if he had to stay still for particularly long. Otherwise, he would run his fingers through his bright blonde hair, yet one lone strand stubbornly defied the iron fist of gravity.

 

It took another day before Arthur overheard the healer’s name. Alfred. It was certainly a nice name, and Arthur simply wanted to talk to the other man more. It was simply curiosity, he reminded himself. When stuck in bed, and unable to do much else, Arthur was just trying to learn more about the unfamiliar healers, and Alfred was the only one who had bothered to talk to the soldier.

“How are you feeling today, Arthur?” Alfred, though Arthur technically didn’t know his name, arrived for yet another check up.

 

“A bit more sore than yesterday, unfortunately,” Arthur spoke as Alfred reached out to remove Arthur’s shirt so he could redress the wound.

 

Arthur’s curiosity about the wound was replaced by a very different train of thoughts. Healer’s clothing was soft, and easy to remove (in case of blood or other bodily fluids), and Arthur’s mind couldn’t help but wander over to the idea of removing this particular healer’s clothes. Arthur felt an odd sort of warmth coil in the pit of his stomach. He simply couldn’t stop himself from imagining pressing himself close to the other man, dragging the healer- no, Alfred into a deep kiss. The soldier’s fantasy was interrupted by a sharp pain where he had been wounded. Arthur bit back a yelp of pain.

 

“Sorry! I should have been more careful. Your wound is still fresh. Hold on for a bit while I get you some more herbs that’ll soothe the pain, all right?” Alfred moved away from Arthur, glancing at the green-eyed soldier’s face for a nod of assent. With Arthur’s nod, Alfred turned away (and gave Arthur a decent view of his clothed arse).

 

The soldier used this time to scold himself for his admittedly embarrassing fantasies. They were simply going to far, and he needed to focus more on healing up than hitting on the healers. The latter could simply wait until the war was done and Arthur could attempt to really get to know Alfred and not simply admire him.

In the next few days, Arthur’s opinion would change. The dull pain in his wound was growing worse, and at first, Alfred’s visits grew more frequent, but now it seemed as if Arthur was going to be mostly left alone. Even a medically illiterate Arthur could guess what this meant. His wound had gotten infected, and while the healers were capable, there were wounds beyond their care.

 

Soon enough, the fever set in, and the dull pain grew sharper. In one of his few moments of clarity between the bouts of feverish sleep, Arthur harbored the idea of telling Alfred that he fancied the other man. Another part of his brain reminded him that the healer wasn’t likely to return his feelings, and who would ever want a sudden love confession from a dying man? The fever set in quickly after that.

 

Arthur left the healer’s tent covered in a red cloth. He was to be burned in a pyre and his ashes would be returned to the far away land where his family resided. Alfred remained none the wiser about the imagined affair between himself and the green-eyed and fuzzy browed soldier. Perhaps it was for the best.


End file.
